The Warrior You Live To Be
by CannibalCommando
Summary: Earthrealm and Outworld warriors gather to fight at the Mortal Kombat tournament. Some seek revenge, others glory. Some look for justice, and others for honour. All of them find the fight of their lives. An AU of the first Mortal Kombat tournament. Heavy violence, language and some suggestive content. POV: Johnny Cage, Kano, Kenshi, Cyrax.
1. Arrival

_**A/N This is the first of several stories spanning the MK timeline. Each story will differ from established canon, this is not a retelling (hence why I'm writing a fanfic, not a transcript for a blog). There will be multiple POV's for each story. For this story, they are Johnny Cage, Kenshi, Kano and Cyrax. There will be strong violence, language and maybe some suggestive content. Please enjoy, and review to help me improve.**_

THE ACTOR

The deck swayed beneath Johnny's trainers, making him dread the resurgence of his breakfast as he clung to the rail. _If you could call it a breakfast. Stale bread and the thinnest tomato soup God ever saw, _he thought, _two weeks since the _Thunder God_ left port, and not a single proper meal since. Couple that with my near-mute companions and I may as well have spent the last two weeks camping with eskimos. Woulda been more fun, too. _

He'd only gotten a few words from Raiden, the man who'd invited him to the tournament, since he'd came aboard. Everyone else kept to themselves, or with the people they knew. The hot blonde stayed with the Australian dude in the handcuffs, the two monks constantly trained in one corner, while Johnny, the blind dude, the ninja and the Native American just kept to themselves. _Wish someone had told me it was fancy dress_._ I'm the only one without some crazy costume. _

The Captain, a stout man with a bushy beard and giant's lungs, shouted orders from behind, in a voice that sounded similar to the waves crashing against the hull. Johnny turned to watch the sailors scrabbling across the deck and up the masts. A few took to a bank of oars and began to row, shoulders hunched low. _As if the crazies in the cabin weren't enough, we hired a freakin' pirate ship. Maybe the press is right. Maybe I have gone off the deep end. Letting myself get stuck on a pirate ship with these lot. _

He frowned as the Captain continued to issue commands, marching down port and starboard, growling at his new recruits and patting the veterans on the arm. _How can he know what to do, when we can't even see through the fog? _The thick wall of grey had strangled the boat since they set sail, so the crystal blue water could only be seen twenty feet in every direction. When he'd asked Raiden how The Captain managed it, he'd simply replied, "But he can see through the fog." Johnny called bullshit on that.

_Thinking of the devil. _Raiden marched out the cabin, and walked to Johnny's side silently. _Hey to you too. _His lightning blue eyes were set in stone, staring at nothing in particular over the water. _What's he staring a- _

Johnny smiled for the first time in days as the grey split over the water, dissolving around them faster than he ever would've assumed, melting into the blue. On the horizon, a massive island loomed alone, stony shores, forests and huge mountains rolling closer with each stroke of the oars. "Purgatory", Raiden said blankly. "Where the tournament will be held."

"Woah," Johnny replied. "I expected something a bit . . ."

"Smaller?"

"More desolate. You didn't make it sound all that great before," he muttered.

"Looks can be decieving."

"Says the guy in the straw hat and robes. Wait . . . are those sandals? With socks? Tell me I'm going crazy," he joked, staring at Raiden's feet.

"You should speak to Lord Raiden with more respect," a voice snapped. Johnny glanced back to find the rest of the competitors wandering out onto deck, one of the monks glaring at him. This monk wore red and black robes, and a bandana tying back thick black hair. The other wore a metal-brimmed hat, with black and silver robes. Neither of them knew how to smile.

"Sorry, Mr. Lee, but not even the tournament organiser can get away with that," he replied, brushing off the man's anger. _No point in getting annoyed. Just play it of__f. _

"Tournament organiser?" the black haired man asked. He looked to Raiden. "You . . . did not tell him?"

"Would you?" Raiden replied. A blue medallion shined bright on his chest under the light from the now-exposed sun. The sky was clear, save a few seagulls circling overhead.

"Tell me what?" Johnny interrupted, stepping closer. "You aren't the tournament organiser?"

"No," he admitted. "I am the God of Thunder."

Johnny froze, eyes locked on the older man's from behind his sunglasses. He watched for a hint of hesitation or dishonesty. Not a muscle twitched, not a flicker from his eyes, not a slight smile or snigger.

He burst into laughter, clutching at the rail, slamming a fist off one knee. The sound easily carried across the deck, and many of the people looked over at them. "Man," he said, as he struggled back to his feet. "Your dedication to your roleplaying is fascinating, really. But count me out. I'm just Johnny . . . my "Lord"."

He barely contained another fit of laughter as he sauntered off, moving to sit by one of the masts. The ship eventually made its way to a rickety pier jutting out of the clear waters, but it was easier for him than before, being able to see land and listen to the gulls. He didn't feel light-headed anymore, and any uneasiness could easily be washed down by the sight of the blonde girl. _Now there's a woman. Muscled and curvy. Shame that she's probably as crazy as the rest_. _I know police officer costumes are kinky, but Special Forces, with fake weapons? Just looks ridiculous._

Raiden led the competitors down the pier once the ship had anchored, towards a group of people gathered around a fire on the beach. The beach's white sand didn't stretch far, before reaching rocky outcrops, the sea or the edge of the forest. Benches sat in the shade of the trees, the firepit in the centre of the sand. A large pit had been dug just beyond, 15 feet deep, and at least 20 metres wide and long. Torches were set at each corner edge, along with flags. They bore a golden dragon on a white field. _Guess that's the symbol for this "Mortal Combat" tournament. Wait, no, "Kombat". Because the "K" must make it so much cooler. _He snorted as they came to a halt, lined up opposite the people at the fire.

_If I thought they were crazy before . . . _Their opposing team had to look even stupider than the ones who'd came with him. Some even wore prosthetics that looked fake enough to be from the 80's. _This is why you don't do your own prosthetics. They look like a 90's dance troupe. Makes me seriously doubt whether Raiden lied about this being a way for me to redeem myself. All I'm doing is making myself look like an idiot. _

An asian man, with long black hair coming up to a widow's peak, stalked forward and opened his arms. The long robes he wore flapped in the wind, making the flames embroidered on them seem to come alive in a flurry of red and gold. "Welcome, Earthrealmers, to Mortal Kombat!" he shouted, his voice both a whisper and a scream. "This is the tenth tournament, after nine consecutive Outworld victories. If you lose again, Earthrealm will be merged with Outworld, free for Shao Kahn to conquer!"

That got some of the opposing team to cheer, but Johnny had to cover his mouth with a hand to contain his laughter. The blond girl stood beside him, and she looked just as dumbfounded as he felt.

"It has begun! The preliminary matches will be held today, now, to decide who enters the winner and loser brackets. No killing is allowed until the brackets begin. You have already been assigned matches and opponents," the man announced. _I've only just started feeling sure-footed again, and they want us to fight? Not even a night's rest? _

Evidently, Johnny wasn't the only person to feel this way, as the woman next to him had cursed under her breath. "You heard 'im, sweetheart," the Australian man mocked, holding up his handcuffs. "Time to unlock these bloody things." Before now, Johnny's eyes had always snapped to the blonde, but now he looked at the bearded man fully for the first time, and had to sigh. _I guess we're using prosthetics too. Terminator eye, seriously? _

Raiden turned to his team. "Do not let this phase you. It is an attempt from Shang Tsung, the man who just spoke, to put us off guard. It will not work, you are all formidable fighters," he told them, before turning back to this Shang Tsung. "What are the matches?"

The man unraveled a scroll, _a freakin' scroll, _to read off the matches. Johnny swore as he said, "Johnny Cage and Reptile are the first match." He looked straight at Johnny. "Mr. Cage, if you wouldn't mind?" he asked, motioning towards the pit.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable fighting while wearing his jeans and a collared shirt, he strolled to the pit. He heard one of the opponents mutter, "The actor?" as he hopped in and rolled his shoulder. _You'll do great. Prove to them what you can do. You're Johnny freakin' Cage. No special effects required. The real deal. _

Another man dropped opposite him, dressed in boiled leathers and combat boots. Bandages coiled around his face, only leaving large, pointed yellow teeth, and beady reptilian eyes visible. _Those fake teeth can't be comfortable to fight with. And contacts, seriously? _

The competitors had lined up above them, either side of the pit. _Intimidating. _He whipped off his five-hundred dollar sunglasses, folding them up and chucking them up to the blonde. He gave her a quick wink, before turning to "Reptile". _If a sexual predator ever got a codename, that'd be it. _

The man hissed at Johnny, and he grinned. "You ready for your beat-down, sunshine? Not every day you get a go with the A-list," he taunted, flicking a strand of hair from his face. _Needs more gel. Shit, did I forget my gel? _

"Mr. Cage, could you focus for one moment?!" a harsh voice snapped.

Johnny stared at a very pissed-off looking Shang Tsung. "What?"

"As I was saying: Each match will consist of a maximum of 3 rounds. Each round will last two minutes maximum. If you win two rounds in a row, you win. A round is won when your opponent takes longer than ten seconds to return to their feet, or if the time limit runs out. If it does, I will judge the victor, as the host," Shang explained, garnering a grumble of dissent from Johnny's team. "Round 1, FIGHT!"

Johnny barely managed to turn in time to counter Reptile's rush. The bandaged man focused on quick jabs, trying to work around any parries or block Johnny tried to use, not giving him time to adapt or launch an offensive. The jabs didn't hurt all that much, but the sustained impacts would numb his arms soon, or tire him out.

The sand underfoot made for difficult movement as he tried to work his way around Reptile, who'd begun to push him back towards the corner. His opponent grabbed him as he passed, fingers digging into his shoulder. Red spread beneath his shirt as the pain in his shoulder rocketed, and his vision began to blur. He instinctively leapt forward, swinging his knee upward. Johnny didn't even feel the impact, as next he knew Reptile had stumbled back and he had fallen to one knee.

He stared at Reptiles red-stained hand as his vision cleared. _Are those . . . talons? How's that fair?!_

His opponent snarled like a berserk animal and leapt forward, sending sand shooting up after him. Johnny rolled under and whipped around as Reptile landed hard where he'd been knelt a moment before. _Prosthetic talons shouldn't have been able to do that, not without tearing off . . . no way. They can't be real. Those crazies aren't telling the truth. He's tied razor blades to his nails, and painted them black. That's all it is. _

_Curved razor blades. _

He struggled to his feet, fists raised in a defensive stance. Or so he made it look. _If he's as aggressive and crazy as he seems, then he won't be the type of opponent to focus on feet positioning. He's all about the attack. The rushdown. He doesn't think. _

He laid his front foot flat, but stood on the balls of his back foot. Reptile predictably launched himself forward, and Johnny spun backwards, lashing out with a kick. It cracked against Reptile's jaw, sending yellow, pointed teeth scattered through the sand like pine needles.

Reptile lay on the ground, unmoving. Johnny tapped him with his foot, but he didn't stir. "Heh, you got caged, bitch," he taunted, trying to draw his attention away from the hammering of his heart, the sweat coating him like an armour, the fear and uncertainty racking through him like the ebbing of the tide. _I need to know. _

He walked over to the unconscious body, grabbed a fistful of ragged bandages and pulled. He heard the blonde gasp. _Holy shit, he looks like those aliens off of 'V'. His name is disturbingly accurate. _

"Round one goes to Mr. Cage," Shang called down with more than an edge to it.

Reptile's eyes snapped open and Johnny backed away, giving himself more space to move. _He won't fall for the same move twice. He'll take his time, think more. _

Reptile swayed when he moved opposite, his hands raised clumsily into a weak defensive stance.

"Round two, fight!"

Johnny charged, flipping forwards with a kick once he was close. Reptile slid underneath, moving on the floor as if it were ice, leaving an oozing liquid in his trail. _What the h-_

Reptile's taloned fist came at him again, and he leaned out the way, countering with two punches under the creature's upper arm. He flicked his leg round Reptile's own, grabbed the outstretched arm and slammed him to the ground.

Johnny kicked at Reptile's side, but he rolled away and came up to a crouching position. Johnny followed, trying to continue his assault with a well placed kick, until Reptile opened his mouth. Something shot out, and before Johnny could react, something long and rough began to constrict his air supply, tightening round his neck like a vice.

_His tongue. It's. His. Freakin'. Tongue. _

He placed his fingers around the tongue, fighting to stay on his feet against a wave of dizziness. _I'm losing consciousness. _

He pulled at the tongue, drawing Reptile closer, closer, _just need him close enough for one punch. Just one . . . one more . . .._

* * *

A blue sky and many concerned and agitated faces stared at Johnny when his eyes flicked back open. "Johhny, can you fight?" Raiden demanded, crouching next to the edge so he didn't have to shout. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Felt worse. Once," he muttered, clambering up against the wall. His shoulder had fallen numb, and his head pounded like music in a nightclub. Looking up, he couldn't even make out Raiden's face.

"Final round, FIGHT!"

"Wha-?!" Johnny shouted, diving to the side. He rolled onto his knees, gasping at the pain. His entire body tingled. A dark shape rushed towards him, talons bared, shadowy hands grasping for him like hungry animals. He swung out his fist, far too early, and the figure easily parried, moving to grip his throat.

He kicked out at the shape's leg and scrambled back. His hand brushed over sand, blood and then something hard. Sharp. _A . . . a tooth! _

He gripped it, hanging onto what seemed like his lifeline. _There's no killing in the preliminary matches. Aim for somewhere non-vital. Like a limb. _

Talons grasped onto his legs and dragged him along the sand, pulling him towards the figure. _Reptile. I'm fighting Reptile. _

Reptile leapt, landing on Johnny's chest with his knees, sending a crack echoing through the confined arena. Johnny yelled, drawing on the last of his energy. _Now!_

He stabbed one of Reptile's wrists, sending the creature snarling away, and leapt forward, tumbling them both back to the floor. He kept one hand locked on his opponent's wounded wrist, digging his fingers into the gash, while stabbing down at the arm with the canine.

After enough green blood had been spilled, from a dozen gashes, and Reptile had stopped thrashing, Johnny got to his feet, his sodden clothes clinging to his skin. _He's knocked out . . . I won. _

"Johnny Cage, wins," Shang Tsung mumbled. "Someone get Reptile out of there."

Johnny staggered over to where Raiden had kicked down a rope ladder, climbed with one hand to avoid aggravating his shoulder, and collapsed onto the floor when topside. "I need . . . that blonde's number."


	2. Old Rivalries Die Hard

_**A/N Right now, I have eight chapters planned for this story, two for each POV. This might end up being increased, depending on circumstances and my writing pace. Please enjoy, and review if you have the time, and/or any constructive criticism of my work.**_

* * *

THE SAMURAI

"I need . . . that blonde's number," the actor mumbled as his consciousness faded. Johnny Cage's soul dimmed a little, only a little brighter than Reptile's soul, which had almost became black. _Johnny almost killed him. Maybe I was right about him._

Kenshi could see the souls due to the incident. The loss of his sight had cursed him with having to see using the ripples of sound every movement or impact made. _Every sound can be felt. Every ripple seen. _But it had also gave him a unique gift: he could gaze into the spirit world.

He recalled the meeting he and Raiden had two years prior, inside the cold, barren mountain that housed the Wells of Souls, where he originally lost his eyes:

"_Raiden. You've arrived. Have you made your choices?" he'd asked, seated upon the Well, gazing at Raiden's soul through the wall between them, lightning carved into the shape of a man._

"_Yes. I would like to hear your suggestions first, though. Your ability to see through the spirit world could be essential in choosing the right combatants," the God had replied, moving into the chamber._

"_Very well. My suggestions are Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, and Nightwolf."_

"_The actor? And that's a small team."_

"_They are the only souls on the planet that called out to me. I noticed that a woman named Sonya Blade also had potential, but it is squandered on her. She would never survive the tournament."_

"_Why not?" Raiden had asked, standing in the doorway like a statue, arms folded, his spirit calm and angry simultaneously, flashing and thriving like white-blue snakes._

"_She obsesses over a man named Kano. She would only attend the tournament with him in tow. His spirit is treacherous and vile. He would hinder us, and her."_

"_I see. I may think a way around that, as she is also one of my choices. She appeared in one of my visions."_

"_Really? Interesting. Who else?"_

"_I also have Liu Kang, Kung Lao and Nightwolf. Their inborn abilities make them excellent picks for the tournament. I was also considering releasing Fujin and Tremor from their oaths. Why Johnny Cage?"_

"_His soul is different from the other Earthrealmers. It has a . . . haze to it. I believe his ancestry, like mine, is not entirely of Earthrealm."_

"_I shall seek him out. I hope you are right about this."_

"_As do I. But I suggest that you do not release Fujin and Tremor, they are needed where they are."_

_The God paused, the lightning whipping out again, indicating a spurt of annoyance. "Hm. Maybe you are right."_

In the present, Sonya Blade lowered herself into the pit, her soul a glimmering fortress of steel. Her opponent's soul appeared to be congealed blood. _An abomination of the sorcerer's, no doubt. _The sand muffled their footsteps, making his vision less clear, like trying to watch a wisp of smoke in a steam room. There wasn't enough sound. He unsheathed his sword and stabbed it into the ground, as easy as cutting butter.

His vision sharpened, outlines becoming clear, if not the details, appearing like smooth glass in a vast darkness from where he felt the ripples. _I miss colours. The blue of the sky especially. This island must be beautiful. _

"Sonya Blade, Skarlet, the same rules apply as in the first fight," Shang Tsung told them, the thousands of souls contained within his own swirling like a tornado, screaming and crying in their eternal anguish. Kenshi could hear every single one of them. His own ancestors were in there, he knew. _I will kill him. _"Round one, fight!"

Kenshi paid no mind to the blood and steel fighting each other, trading blows fast and sharp. His focus rest solely on the sorcerer.

"_My name is Song, I am pleased to meet you." A smile, seemingly innocent, truly vile._

"_I have little time old man. What do you want?" Arrogance and no anger. A time long gone._

"_I have heard of your prowess in battle, and wish to gift you with something." A trick. A trap. If only I'd used the eyes I was gifted with._

"_Something?" I should never have asked._

"_An ancient sword." Curiosity sparked. I guess I was the cat._

He spent a few more minutes, simply reflecting on the pain that one moment had led to, when a scream dragged him into reality. He glanced down to see Sonya laying on the ground, clutching her face. Blood pooled beneath her fingers and dripped to the sand like rainfall.

"Round two goes to Skarlet!" the trickster announced. "Final round. Fight!"

Kenshi watched the man closely, the cold grins that flicked up every time Skarlet landed an attack, the warm grimaces that appeared whenever Sonya gained the upper hand. A few moments passed, and the sorcerer's heart rate spiked. His snake's lips parted cooly, "Sonya Blade wins."

The woman clambered up the ladder, ignoring the ghastly wound on her face and standing next to Kano. _She certainly doesn't like leaving him alone. It'll mean her death._

"You ought to get that wound treated," Kenshi suggested, his voice barely a whisper, a scratch on stone that he rarely used. "We can watch Kano."

They both looked surprised that he knew the name, but she shook her head anyway, her tangled ponytail swaying. "Thanks for the offer, but he isn't leaving my sight. Not yet." She seemed unsteady on her feet, and her eyes seemed to be focused over his shoulder. _She's seeing double._

"The next fighter will be," Shang Tsung began, "wait . . . he's here?" Venomous laughter rang out and Kenshi need not ask whom he meant. "Is that you Kenshi? I didn't recognise you without your eyes. Those grey streaks in your hair don't help either. Last we met, you were a young . . . _whole _man."

"They've met?" he heard Kung Lao ask.

"Quiet," muttered Raiden.

Kenshi's hand tightened into a fist. "You knew damn well I'd be here," he snarled. "You organise the matches."

"Not this year. The Emperor wanted to be sure that the fights were . . . fair." _He clearly means the opposite. Don't bite. Don't let him provoke you._

"Not so much. I've learnt much since we last met."

"Yes. Now you can walk in a straight line without trailing a bloody hand on the wall." More laughter. _I will kill you. I will kill you. I will. _"Here, let me show you your opponent. Ermac!"

A figure appeared on the other side of the pit. Judging by the rest of the combatants covering their eyes, he assumed there'd been some flash of light. He gazed through the spirit world at his opponent and almost gagged on his rage. Anger flooded his veins, boiling his temperament, removing his restraint.

This "Ermac" was constructed from the souls of his ancestors, a contraption of pain and anger. They noticed Kenshi though, he could tell. They even calmed a little, though they still fought in their futile effort to escape their new host.

"I will kill this abomination!" he screamed. "I will reclaim my ancestors, and kill you!"

"Kenshi, calm yourself! If you're unfocused, you will be defeated," Raiden warned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Kenshi tore it off and leapt into the pit. "Face me!" he shouted. Ermac walked off the edge of the pit, where he hovered in the air before slowly descending. His ancestors cried and flailed. _Kill. Kill. Kill. A telekinetic. Don't give him time to focus his abilities._

"Round one, fight!"

Kenshi arced his sword upwards, and one of the souls within it materialised in front of Ermac, imitating his motion. His opponent only just managed to dodge the attack, and the imitation only managed to graze his shoulder.

Both teams of combatants above murmured to each other. No one had expected Earthrealmers to have abilities, no doubt. Except Raiden, who shouted down. "Kenshi, show restraint! You cannot kill in the the preliminary matches!"

Kenshi growled, his mind reminding him of the truth in Raiden's words, his sword arm wanting to cut Ermac head to foot. His sword arm won.

He slashed out again and again, short movements that succeeded each other quickly, giving Ermac little time to avoid them. His opponent rolled and leapt and sidestepped, but no matter what movement he made, Kenshi was able to divert him. Ermac couldn't get within ten feet of the samurai.

Kenshi rushed forward, running through the imitation he had created and lunging, his katana darting forward like a viper. The blade found the soft of Ermac's stomach, and he twisted, ripping through sinew, muscle and organs. He tore the blade upwards, splitting Ermac open in a fountain of warm, wet blood.

The body collapsed and Kenshi's ancestors flew into his sword, melting into the steel, finding their home again. New strength rippled through Kenshi and he gasped. _I feel . . . fresh. New._

Raiden was shouting at him, thunder rolling in the distance, but he ignored him and turned to a furious Shang Tsung. "You're next."

"And you are fighting in the loser's bracket," the man growled. "Where you will die. Much to my amusement."

Kenshi turned and climbed back to the surface, the blood coating his hands making it harder to climb than it should have been. The wooden rungs slipped and swung, giving him a faint taste of nausea. _It would entertain the sorcerer to no end to see me fall of a ladder like a simpleton._

Raiden shook his head. "You realise that being in the loser's bracket prevents you from challenging Shang Tsung?"

"Only if someone from the winner's bracket wishes to challenge him." He paused. " I . . . feel different," he admitted. None of his muscles ached, there was no strain or knots, that usually stretched and frustrated him when he trained. _Have I healed?_

"You look different," Raiden replied. "The grey in your hair is gone. The souls must've rejuvenated you, in the same way Shang Tsung keeps himself young."

"Do not compare me to that monster."

"We both know that is not what I meant," Raiden snapped. "Absorbing souls has the same effect, no matter the man."

"I did not absorb the souls. I reclaimed them."

"I know."

_No, you do not, you weren't there when he took my eyes. You don't feel the relief and satisfaction of having them back._

"The next match!" Shang Tsung shouted, venom laced into every syllable. "Will be Sub-Zero and Scorpion."

A pair of ninjas made their way into the pit. One wore robes with structured bones. His mask was slitted along the sides. His soul was blackened and dead, but fire still raged within. _Scorpion. I've heard of him. Does this mean Quan Chi is supporting Outworld?_

He looked over to Raiden, who bore the same look of worry. "You realised it too?" the Thunder God asked. "We will have to keep a close eye on him."

The ninja from their side wore robes layered with a plating that acted as light armour. His mask had the symbol of a clan marked into the sides. The soul beneath the skin resembled ice. _There is a Lin Kuei on our team, and two on the opposing. Why would they fight for both sides?_

"You killed my family and clan," Scorpion rumbled.

"I did no such thing. Hanzo, we knew each other for years before the incident. Why would I? I've asked the Grand Master, and no such attack took place from our men!" Sub-Zero protested.

"Liar! I saw your face. We spoke. I watched as you cut down my wife! _My child!_" he roared.

"I can not show you my innocence, if you are blinded by anger."

Shang Tsung interrupted, with a deadly smirk, "Round one, begin!"

Scorpion moved at his first opportunity, snapping his arm out and flinging a kunai forward with rare precision. His opponent rolled under, snatching the rope out of the air and coiling it around his arm, drawing Scorpion closer and closer.

They met in a close-quarters brawl, trading elbows and knees, neither of them able to move away from the other. The kunai hang limp from the coiled rope and Scorpion snatched for it. Sub-Zero slammed his head into his, eliciting a loud crack.

He held his hand out, and ice slid out from his palm, forming a fearsome sword. More people murmured. _Impressive. Most cryomancers can't freeze their own piss._

He swung it down, severing the rope and allowing him to slide away on a trail of ice. Scorpion roared and extended his arms to either side. Fire formed in his palms, and spread down his arms, soon enveloping his entire body in an inferno.

The flaming ninja rushed forward, leaving a trail of sparks in his fiery wake. Sub-Zero formed balls and daggers of solid ice, flinging them at his opponent to no avail. Scorpion batted each away, and any ice that tried to cling to or freeze his body melted off.

Once in close quarters he merely grabbed Sub-Zero, and the robes beneath the plate caught fire. Sub-Zero began to scream.

"Scorpion, enough! We need him alive! _Enough!_" Shang Tsung shouted down.

The spectre paid him no heed, remaining intent as Sub-Zero burned alive in his own armour. His skin melted and dripped off his bones, crisping and flaking. After a few seconds Kenshi and the rest of the Earthrealmers stopped watching. They knew the match had been won, they didn't need to watch _that._

Sonya Blade and Kano in particular looked shocked. _I bet they are as pale as the snow outside the Well of Souls._ Her wound had tore her face from the bottom of her left cheek up to her hairline, torn and cracked flesh on either side. _That must stand out even more. _He looked down at the unconscious Johnny Cage. _You are lucky you did not need to see or hear this._

Kenshi walked past them, moving to the shoreline. He sat with crossed legs and lay his sword upon them, admiring the design engraved into the polished steel. _A dragon and a phoenix. How fitting._

"_They say the sword's name is Sento." That vile smile again._

He slowed his breathing in time with waves. His vision faded, except for the glean from _Sento_ which began to pulse with his heart. It glowed an eery green and a man appeared before him.

"Kenshi. You have came," his ancestor said. "Thank you."

"I had to get you back," Kenshi admitted. "It was a great shame, being fooled by that sorcerer."

"Indeed. But you are now an honourable man. Are you done here?" the spirit asked.

"No. There is still a tournament to win . . . and a sorcerer to kill." His entire body felt as if it were on fire when he spoke his intentions aloud.

"That won't bring your eyes back."

"No. Because nothing can." _I will kill him._


End file.
